Masochism Tango
by MustBeAWriter
Summary: Alternate take on "100". What if someone else had gotten to Haley and Jack before Foyet?


_*Another Criminal Minds fic that's possibly angstier (is that even a word?) than the first. Alternate take on "100". Hopefully less emotionally devastating than the actual episode, but I promise nothing..._

(Emily)

She's the closest to Hotch's former home when they realize that's where Foyet's headed, so she flips the siren on and floors it, praying she can get there in time.

Emily screeches to a halt outside of the gate, and is barely out of the SUV before Haley, apparently having heard the sirens, is racing down the front walk, Jack in her arms and a panicked look in her eyes.

"Agent Prentiss, what's going on?" she demands.

Emily shakes her head. "No time to explain," she says. She nods towards the SUV idling by the curb. "Take that, turn the sirens off, and get as far away from here as fast as you can. I don't care where you go, just get somewhere safe."

Haley nods and buckles Jack into the back seat. "What about you?" she asks. "Aaron, the rest of the team...what about them?"

Emily gives her what she hopes is a reassuring smile. "We know what we're doing. Everything will work itself out."

She nods to herself as Haley speeds off. Yeah, she knows what she's doing, knows how to face what's coming. She also knows that she probably won't survive it.

(Hotch)

He breathes a sigh of relief when Emily tells him that Haley and Jack are out of harm's way for now. "Good. Now get yourself out of there," he tells her.

"Not happening," she argues. "Someone's got to be here when Foyet shows up, otherwise he's in the wind again."

"Don't be stupid, Em." Morgan's voice crackles over the speaker, and Hotch realizes Garcia's got them all tied up in some sort of conference call. "You can't take Foyet on by yourself. It's suicide."

"Morgan's right," Rossi pipes up. "Find some cover and wait for back-up."

"Hotch..."

"Wait for back-up, Emily, that's an order," Hotch commands. "Do _not _engage Foyet on your own."

"There's just one problem with that, Hotch," she murmurs. "He's already here."

* * *

He'd heard the entirety of Emily's beating at the hands of Benjamin Cyrus, but that's nothing compared to the screams Foyet pulls from her. He's going slow, torturing her, hoping she'll cave and give him Haley and Jack's whereabouts. He doesn't seem to realize that she doesn't know herself.

It takes everything in him to keep driving. He's tempted to hang up, the cacophony of screams and sobs threatening to drive him insane. But he can't hang up. Because as long as he can hear Emily, he knows she's alive.

But it's not just Emily he can hear. Foyet's unwittingly torturing all of them. Garcia's incoherent with grief, and Reid and JJ are crumbling fast. His breath catches when he recognizes his old neighborhood, and he punches the gas.

Emily's moans are quieter, getting less frequent when Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi storm the gate. They don't have to search very far. Foyet's straddling Emily in the living room, her blood staining the pristine white carpet as he carves patterns into her skin with a hunting knife.

He doesn't stand a chance. They all have the shot, and they all take it. He slumps to the side, three bullets lodged in his brain.

When Hotch sees Emily's mutilated body barely clinging to life, he can't help but think it's not enough.

(Derek)

By some miracle of miracles, she's still alive. She's drifting in and out of consciousness, but she's got a death grip on his hand, which means he gets to ride in the ambulance with her. The paramedics are irritated, but they task him with keeping her awake.

Emily's eyes flutter shut, and he squeezes her hand to coax them open again. "C'mon, baby, stay with me," he urges. "You can't go to sleep just yet."

She groans, forces her eyes open. "I'm so tired, Derek," she whimpers. "And the sun's too bright."

Derek exchanges worried glances with the medics and asks the driver how close they are to the hospital. "Five minutes," she answers.

"You hear that, Em?" he asks, stroking her hair. "Only five more minutes, and then you can rest, okay?"

She nods weakly. "Promise me something, Derek?"

"Anything," he assures her. "Whatever you need."

"Tell Hotch..." She trails off, her eyes glazing over as she stares at nothing before she snaps back to herself. "Tell Hotch that I love him. If I don't get the chance...tell him."

"If I thought that was a promise I had to make, I'd make it," he tells her. "But you know there's no way in hell I'm letting you get out of telling him yourself."

As they pull up to the ER, her eyes flutter closed again. "If you say so."

(Hotch)

It's been hours. Emily's been in surgery for hours, and to make matters worse, they have no clue what's going on.

His only comfort comes from holding a sleeping Jack in his lap. Haley had driven to the BAU office, and had then volunteered to drive JJ and Garcia to the hospital when she realized neither were in a state to drive themselves. Upon arrival, Jack had glued himself to his daddy's side and refused to leave.

But even the comforting presence of his little boy couldn't keep the guilt from gnawing away at Hotch. No combination of words, not even from Emily herself, would ever convince him that this wasn't entirely his fault. He'd turned down Foyet's deal, hadn't been strong enough to stop him the first time, and now Emily was fighting for her life.

"Daddy," Jack murmurs, blinking up at him sleepily.

"Yeah buddy?" he replies, trying to keep his voice even.

"Em'ly's gonna be okay, right?"

He sighs, closes his eyes, holds his son a little tighter. "I don't know, Jack. The bad man hurt her pretty badly."

"But...you got the bad guy, Daddy," Jack protested. "You saved Em'ly...so she has to be okay."

He's trying to figure out how to tell Jack that, _no _she might not be okay when the doors to the OR are finally pushed open. The surgeon's blood-stained scrubs and haggard expression do nothing to quell his fears. The team rises as one when he called out her name.

"Emily Prentiss."


End file.
